


in between parables

by copperiisulfate



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8824246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperiisulfate/pseuds/copperiisulfate
Summary: Of all the others here, Nanase is probably one of the few who has had his greatest interests at heart, possibly even when he hasn't had his own.Or: the Matoba clan has not been known to marry for love.





	

 

  
"Your father was married at an age younger than you are now," one of the esteemed clan elders says, sipping her tea. She is one of his late father's oldest cousins.  
  
Seiji takes in her graying hair and wrinkled hands, her closed (perfectly intact) eyes, and says nothing.  
  
"There are many beautiful daughters from high ranking exorcist families who would be suitable," chimes the younger sister of the woman from before with her reedy voice. "A fitting partner and dutiful wife."  
  
Seiji thinks of his mother, wonders what it was they chose her for.  
  
She came from a powerful family and was both beautiful and dutiful certainly.  
  
Usually, he knows better than to speak up when they are on about something or other until he absolutely must. At the end of the day, he does what he must and weighs opinions as they come. This conversation however strikes a nerve for a reason he cannot name.  
  
"The time is not right," Seiji says lightly. "The house is not yet stable enough and there are far more pressing things that require the clan's attention."  
  
"Marriage leads to great stability," says the first woman, setting down her cup with a decisive clink.  
  
"Besides," adds a man, his grand-uncle to be exact, "you could have your pick of the lot, anyone you choose."  
  
For a fraction of a moment, Seiji's mind threatens to drift. Fortunately, he course-corrects in time.  
  
Nanase's gaze is on him suddenly, a knowing heavy weight. He does not need to look at her to feel it.  
  
She is not malicious, he knows, has never been. She was a friend of his mother's and, of all the others here, is probably one of the few who has had his greatest interests at heart, possibly even when he hasn't had his own.  
  
(He chases away the thought of a salamander ayakashi skittering away from under his palm, a faraway laugh, a faraway warmth -- clears his head, returns to the present.)   
  
"Regarding the next meeting," he starts, with a tight smile and a little more firmness than is appropriate when talking to his elders. He catches himself yet again, is careful to lilt his voice shortly after. "I had hoped we could discuss the agenda."  
  
Distantly, he wonders if his mother had ever been in love.

 

 

*

 

  
  
Nanase finds him in the courtyard, drenched in sweat. His eyes are fixed on a paper target marked on a faraway tree, riddled by nearly a dozen arrows.  
  
Although he has never worn his emotions on his sleeve, they sublimate and become apparent all the same when he is out here like this and if one pays attention.  
  
She watches him a moment, takes in his single-minded ferocity that is easy to read at the surface, and then, because she has known him since he was a child, the tide of fury underneath, at his own incomprehensible inability to reconcile the impossible.  
  
He is still a child in so many ways, might always be a child to her, granted, though he would hate to hear this.

Everyone knows that his mother had spoiled him rotten with adoration.

As an adviser, Nanase remembers telling her this when she had been alive.  
  
(As her friend, Nanase had spoiled her in turn, and hypocritically continues the woman's legacy to this day, within certain constraints.)  
  
"Are you here to lecture me as well?" He only acknowledges her presence with words, bow-string taut, eyes still fixed upon his target.  
  
"You know I can't stand half of them," she confides.  
  
"Careful," he says. "That is my family you are speaking of." He doesn't sound the slightest bit offended, however. A tad weary, perhaps.  
  
"Still, it is something to think about," she says. "They are expecting you to deliver an heir one of these days. Those don't just appear out of thin air."  
  
"I am fully aware," he releases another arrow into the air.  
  
Briefly, she wonders if this target practice had always been more than it appeared to the untrained eye, wonders if he pictures the mark to be his heart with the belief that practice made perfect after all.

" _Seiji_."  
  
"I _said_  that I am aware. A little disrespectful though, isn't it? Relegating the entire identity and purpose of some poor woman to the role of heir-birther?"  
  
Nanase says nothing for a moment. She wants to ask if this is what he had thought of his mother, a woman who had certainly been this but also so much more. She decides against it because she knows this is no time to play with fire. A beat later, she asks. "What do you want, Seiji?"  
  
It is the wrong question. His stillness fractures for a moment and his hair comes undone from its loose tie atop his head when he shakes it violently once. "Do not play games with me," he nearly snarls. "I want this house to survive and you know this."

He does not say: _The rest is irrelevant._ It lingers in the air regardless.

She keeps her eyes on him and feels a sharp tug of sympathy, perhaps for the moment of real, bared emotion. She could never envy his position, not even for a moment. Part of her wants to offer a touch, some sort of reassurance, but she reminds herself decidedly that she is not his mother; besides, there is no real reassurance to give.   
  
What is worse is that they both know the answer to her question.  
  
"It's not a crime to think of the past," she says.  
  
He levels her with a look in return and does not even grace her with a response before returning his attention to his bow.  
  
Another arrow pierces through the mark.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so this was potentially going to part of another thing but then it didn't fit in anymore. upon further consideration, however, it fits more easily into the same bitter repressed universe as 'the saints can't help me now' :)
> 
> also this is neither here nor there but i've begun to harbour this not-so-secret headcanon that nanase was sort of kind of in love with seiji's mother.


End file.
